


Lead Me Astray

by AnnaKnitsSpock



Category: Star Trek: Mirror Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Anal Fisting, BDSM, Bottom Jim, Bottom Kirk, Butt Plugs, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Christmas, Christmas Smut, Collars, Dom/sub, Dominance, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Fisting, Group Sex, Hurt Kirk, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Jim Kirk, Jealous Spock, K/S Advent Calendar, Kink, Kirk is First Officer, Light Bondage, Light Sadism, M/M, Masochism, Master/Slave, Mirror Universe, Nonmonogamous Relationship, Painplay, Possessive Spock, Power Dynamics, Public Sex, Riding Crops, Rough Sex, S&M, Secret Relationship, Sex in the Captain's Chair, Slave Kirk, Slut Shaming, Space Husbands, Spock is Captain, Top Spock, Vulcan Language, Whipping, brief mention of eating disorders, kirk/spock - Freeform, slut as a slur, spirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-03 15:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8718886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaKnitsSpock/pseuds/AnnaKnitsSpock
Summary: On the starships of the Terran Empire, first officers are little more than sex slaves for their captains. But once a year, Starfleet requires captains to be generous—during the so-called Advent Celebration, first officers are passed among the senior crew for sexual enjoyment. For the command team of the ISS Enterprise this mandatory tradition is complicated, because Captain Spock and his first officer, Commander Kirk, have a secret.





	1. Spock

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 2016 contribution to the wonderful [Kirk/Spock Advent Calendar](http://ksadvent.livejournal.com/). Thanks as always to Ashley and Amanda for organizing. Written for the prompt, "Mirror or half-mirror. Either Kirk or Spock is captain and the other their slave (but in fact they are much more to each other). It is tradition on a starship that the captain shares their slave with the crew during holiday season. Angst with a happy ending, please." 
> 
> Well, this is by far the filthiest thing I have ever written for the Advent Calendar—it is comprised almost entirely of depraved smut. Seriously **THIS IS YOUR CONTENT WARNING** : this story is full of dubious consent, rough sex, kink, unhealthy levels of possessiveness, and Jim just generally being a damaged person getting used (albeit willingly) as a fuck toy. It's a Mirror fic and Jim is a sex slave—it's going to be just as fucked up as you think it is so please heed the tags.
> 
> That said, I understand from my betas that Jim and Spock are actually quite sweet with each other in this story, because of course they are, so as long as you're not squicked, please read away!
> 
> Mouseover Vulcan words for translations! A glossary is at the bottom as well.

“Spock, can we switch to the steel collar? This one’s starting to hurt.”

Spock looked up from his desk, his curtain of black hair falling over one shoulder. Jim shivered; his Captain’s cold beauty never failed to take his breath away, no matter how long he had served him.

Spock rose fluidly and crossed the respectful distance Jim had put between himself and the captain’s workspace. He lifted his long, pale fingers to Jim’s neck, running them along the leather collar before undoing the gold clasp and removing it.

“Fragile human,” he tutted.

Jim looked at his feet. “I’m sorry.”

But Spock put a gentle finger under Jim’s chin and tilted it up.

“No apologies, _slor-veh_. Not when we are alone. You know that.”

His hand came to Jim’s cheek and Jim leaned into it. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I just forget.”

Spock nodded sympathetically. “You forget because you are such a beautifully obedient first officer. I am fortunate to have you.”

Jim laughed softly. Spock was always saying that he was lucky to have Jim, and it sounded ridiculous every time. Jim was the lucky one—Spock wasn’t his first captain, and Jim knew what it was like to be an unlucky first officer.

Spock kissed his head. “You may deny it all you want, _ashaya_ , but it is still true. Now, please sit on the bed so that I may look at your neck.”

“It’s fine—” Jim started to protest, but Spock’s sharp look reminded him that disobeying orders to avoid inconveniencing Spock was still disobeying orders. Jim bowed his head and went over to sit on the edge of their bed.

Spock joined him and tilted his head to the side, gently touching the skin that had been rubbed raw by the leather collar. He tutted again.

“You should have alerted me earlier, Jim. We will not use that collar again.”

“You like how it looks, though.”

“Not enough to justify hurting you in this way.” Jim felt the cool touch of an ointment as Spock began rubbing it into his skin.

“You will sleep without a collar tonight,” Spock said firmly. At the sensation of distress that Jim couldn’t stop from flooding Spock’s mind, he raised a sharp eyebrow.

“None of that, husband. You did not tell me your collar was causing skin abrasions, and now you will sleep without one. You have only yourself to blame.”

Jim closed his eyes, trying not to cry. Spock sighed and sent Jim a warm impression of tolerant reassurance. “I am far too weak in the face of your unhappiness,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I know you are afraid of not having your collar, but you need only reach for the bond to remind yourself that a collar is but a physical representation of how utterly you belong to me.”

“I know,” Jim whispered, but a tear slipped out anyway. Spock caught it with his thumb.

“You are especially sensitive tonight, Jim. Is something troubling you?”

Jim pulled his legs up onto the bed and wrapped his arms around them. Spock rubbed his back in soothing circles.

“I’m worried about the Advent.”

“Ah. I suspected that might be the problem.”

“I hate it.” Spock’s hand migrated to Jim’s head, running his long fingers through his hair.

“I know that you do. Just as you know, _komihnsu t’nash veh_ , that I cannot refuse to share your body without dire consequences.”

Jim nodded. “But do you think… could you stay with me this year?”

Most captains did stay; in fact it was unheard of that Spock provided his first officer without supervision during the Advent celebration. The crew seemed to think it was a rare expression of generosity, which worked in Spock’s favor, but in reality it was just too much of a risk.

It was usually easy enough to hide what they were to each other, but Spock was possessive of his first officer in a way that no captain had any right to be. If watching Jim be passed like a common pleasure slave among the senior crew members caused to Spock to lose his temper, someone might figure out that they had been much more than a command team for years.

First officers were tools—they allowed captains to show their supreme dominance by constantly submitting their bodies wherever and whenever the captain demanded. If they had technical skills that they could be ordered to perform, so much the better—a tool was more valuable the more uses it had.

As a first officer, Jim was a rare prize. He was beautiful, sexually gifted, brilliant; but most importantly, Jim wasn’t vying for the captain’s chair. Most first officers gritted their teeth and tolerated the humiliation of their position before inheriting or stealing the captaincy. But Jim was different—docile and genuinely submissive, content to stay in his place—and it made him one of the most coveted first officers in Starfleet.

Maybe Jim would have been a normal first officer if not for all the men who had chipped away at him throughout his life—his stepfather, Governor Kodos and his Tarsus IV guards, the string of brutal captains who had all eventually tired of Jim’s attitude and transferred him. The list was long and dark. But maybe he could have still gotten back up—patched himself together as he had done so many times and fought his way to becoming Captain James Tiberius Kirk, a first officer serving _him_ , taking _his_ orders.

But then there was Spock, and by then Jim was just so tired. Spock was firm but reasonable, and Jim didn’t have to make any decisions, fight any battles. He had been fighting his whole life, and he just wanted to rest. Somewhere along the way he had been broken like a racing horse, lost the desire to mouth off to his captains, resist their dominance; now he just wanted to yield. His obedience was an excellent demonstration of Spock’s power, so obtaining Jim had been advantageous.

Jim was a prize, but that didn’t mean Spock was supposed to fall in love with him.

And even though Jim had fallen in love too, that didn’t mean they were supposed to bond when Spock went into pon farr. First officers were not husbands, or even Captain’s men. But Jim was everything.

If any of the crew found out that Jim’s status was raised off-duty, his rules and restrictions decreased, it could easily cause mutiny. Spock kept a firm hold on his command by maintaining an appearance of balance. No emotions meant no unnecessary violence, but also no unnecessary mercy. The soft thoughts that he and Jim shared, the gentle way they took care of each other—those things had to remain entirely private. The only person who knew the truth was Bones, Jim’s best friend and the one other person on the ship that both Spock and Jim trusted implicitly.

So when Advent rolled around and Spock was required by tradition and Starfleet mandate to share the gift of his first officer’s body, he did so without the show of dominant voyeurism most captains made. But that meant Jim was alone as he was hauled from one bed to the next, fucked however the crew wanted him.

It wasn’t that Jim didn’t want the sex—he did, and that was perhaps the biggest problem. His devotion to Spock was absolute, primordial, and so his mind recoiled at the infidelity. Spock at least left his shields down during the celebrations so that Jim wasn’t alone in his head with the guilt; it helped Jim that Spock knew every detail of his liaisons. He didn’t think he could bear it otherwise. But Spock’s reassurances that he didn’t view Jim’s mandatory participation in the Advent as a betrayal were only helpful to a point. Spock’s Vulcan jealousy was as clear in Jim’s mind as his comfort, and Jim knew that his own pleasure, his lust, were equally explicit in the bond. It left him panicking, each fresh spike of want chased by a shadow of guilt.

Spock always spoiled him afterward with extra attention and a reduction of duties, as well as several rounds of possessive sex, but the Advent still left Jim strung out and repentant.

They had discussed the prospect of Spock staying for all of the various encounters in years past, but Spock’s jealousy had proved too intense. Jim knew the request he was making now was significant, but he wasn’t sure he could take another year of the guilt.

Spock stroked the back of his head. Finally he sighed, resigned. “Perhaps, Jim. I will meditate on whether I might be able to control myself.”

Jim’s face lit up, and a spark of Spock’s fondness fizzed in the bond. “As long as the crew does not know that their captain can be undone by so simple a thing as a human smile.”

Jim laughed and leaned in for a kiss, Spock’s hand tightening on the back of his skull.

Hours later Jim lay with Spock curled against his back, sleep eluding him. Finally he reached behind him and found Spock’s hand, dragging it up to his neck and arranging Spock’s fingers on his still-sensitive skin.

Spock gave another of his resigned little sighs but dutifully gave Jim’s throat a reassuring squeeze, then left his fingers resting gently where Jim’s collar should be.

\---

When Jim was assigned to the _ISS Enterprise_ four years ago, he had been terrified of serving the Vulcan captain rumored to be without emotion, ruthless and calculating. When he was delivered to Captain Spock, the whip marks Captain Garrovick had left as a parting gift weren’t even healed yet, the back of his blue tunic soaked through with blood. The prospect of an even harsher leader was unbearable.

To his surprise, Spock took one look at him and then silently brought him to the medical bay to have his wounds healed before he was sent to Spock’s quarters.

When Jim finally arrived, the Vulcan captain was waiting for him, so Jim fell to his knees immediately, not sure if the evidence of Captain Garrovick’s cruel treatment made Spock pity him, or if his damaged condition had been displeasing to his new commander.

As he waited on his knees, mouth open in case Spock wanted to fuck his face, Jim felt—to his horror—tears start to burn in his eyes. He was just so tired, and Captain Garrovick had decided not to feed him for their last few days together, so that Jim would be weak and pliant for their final interactions. And even though the doctor with the rough hands and sad eyes had healed his cuts, as well as the broken rib he had found with his tricorder, Jim’s whole body still ached, his muscles overused and shaking.

It was a shock when Spock closed his mouth with cold, soft fingers before putting one strong arm under his knees and one under his back, lifting him easily off the floor.

Taken by surprise, Jim thoughtlessly looked straight into Spock’s eyes and Spock stopped walking, frozen in the middle of his quarters with Jim in his arms.

Jim looked away instantly—it was a grave offense to have made eye contact with his new captain before receiving permission. He shouldn’t speak, either, but to not apologize now seemed worse, so he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Captain, I’m so sorry.”

Spock started walking again and put Jim on his bed. Jim closed his eyes and prepared to be taken painfully as punishment for the eye contact, but Spock simply sat beside him.

“Apologies are unnecessary. I was merely taken aback by your eyes. They are even more startlingly blue in person than in your holos. You need not refrain from eye contact in my presence.”

Jim peeked shyly at his new captain, taking him in properly for the first time—he was tall and slim, pale skin and long black hair. As Jim watched, Spock tucked his hair behind one tapered ear, revealing a patch of shaved skull.

“I think you will find, Mr. Kirk, that I am not like your previous captain. I do not condone or practice the flagrant abuse of a first officer. I will, of course, require both your professional and sexual servitude, but as long as you are respectful, there need not be violence. Although I run the _Enterprise_ with a firm hand, I do not believe that a starship can function on fear alone—there must also be loyalty and professional competence. I requested you not only for your rather remarkable beauty, but more importantly for your expertise in engineering and the technical sciences. Did Captain Garrovick allow you to perform ship’s work as well as serve him?”

“No, Captain,” Jim whispered.

“As I suspected. You will not be treated in that manner here. Tonight you will sleep, and tomorrow I will apprise you of your professional responsibilities. I will not expect you to perform your sexual duties until Dr. McCoy has declared you healthy enough.”

Jim couldn’t help but gape at him. Such generosity was the last thing he had expected from this alien captain. Spock quirked an eyebrow at him.

Jim spluttered, “Oh, I– Yes, Captain. Thank you, Captain.” More quietly, he said, “Thank you so much,” and Spock’s expression softened infinitesimally.

“You are welcome. You may sleep now—I will join you in bed when I am finished working. There is water on the bedside table, should you want it. Do you require anything else at this time?”

Jim wasn’t sure he should ask, but if he wanted to perform well tomorrow he was going to have to eat. “May I have a protein bar or something?” he whispered, and Spock’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes, of course. You are welcome to any food programmed into my replicator. When is the last time you ate, Commander?”

“Five days ago.”

Spock’s face hardened, and the tightly coiled fury Jim saw there sent a spike of fear all through him.

“I’m sorry, Captain, I don’t need to eat,” he said quickly, starting to sit up, but Spock pushed him back down with a surprisingly tender hand.

“Of course you need to eat. My anger is not with you, but with your former captain.”

“I thought you didn’t have emotions,” Jim said without thinking. _Fuck_. He scrunched his eyes in desperation—his mouth always got him into so much trouble. But above him Spock just chuckled softly. Jim cracked one eye open.

“Vulcans have emotions, but we control them with logic. Some have used this control to achieve peace, others total apathy for sentient life. I attempt to fall somewhere in between.”

He stood up and Jim settled into the pillows, wondering if it would be ok to get under the blankets. Spock’s quarters were warm, but Jim got cold easily, as skinny and underfed as he was. When Spock returned with a protein bar, Jim thanked him and asked permission to get under the blanket.

“Of course. You may also undress. I prefer that you sleep without clothing.”

“Yes sir,” Jim murmured and hurried to strip off his clothes. Spock reached out a hand. “I will deposit them in the refresher.” Hesitantly, Jim handed over the stained shirt and loose pants; his captain was practically waiting on him and he didn’t know how to deal with that.

He stood to tuck his boots neatly at the side of the bed, and when he straightened up he found Spock’s eyes on his body, hot and hungry. Jim swallowed, assuming the promise of “no sex until Dr. McCoy says so” was about to be broken.

But Spock merely nodded and said, “You are indeed quite beautiful. I am gratified that you are here, and I look forward to enjoying you,” before turning away and sitting at his desk.

After a few moments Jim realized Spock really wasn’t going to use him tonight, so he got under the covers with a quiet, “Thank you, sir.”

Jim barely made it through the protein bar without falling asleep, and when he finally closed his eyes, warm and comfortable, he allowed himself a tentative feeling of relief before he passed out.

He was woken sometime in the night by Spock getting into bed. He waited, and sure enough a cool hand came to rest on his hip, making him shiver. Spock ran his fingers along Jim’s skin, but his touch was more curious than demanding. The fingers traced up his neck and then began to card gently through his hair. It was nice, and Jim started edging back toward sleep, barely hearing Spock’s whispered, “ _Vaksurik_ ,” before he was swallowed by the black.

\---

Late into Alpha shift, Jim was leaning sleepily on Spock’s leg. He had spent all morning in Engineering, fixing a broken replicator circuit, and then most of the afternoon installing an upgrade for the main transporter control panel. Although he had been the one to give Jim those orders, Spock was irritated that he had been gone all day, and had ordered Jim to spend the rest of Alpha at the first officer’s station.

Jim was more than happy to oblige—sitting at Spock’s feet, the hum of their ship vibrating against him, was Jim’s favorite place in the universe. He hadn’t slept very well without his collar and he was a little tired, so he had been contentedly dozing for the last hour, Spock stroking his hair on and off. He reached up to touch the thin steel collar around his neck, reassuring himself of its presence.

When Spock’s fingers suddenly tightened, Jim shivered, instantly chubbing up a little in his uniform trousers. By now he was tuned to Spock like an instrument, and his reactions were instinctive.

“Commander Kirk, come here please.”

Jim rose onto his knees and turned around, eyes zeroing in on where Spock was already taking himself out of his pants with one hand.

“Suck me,” he said tonelessly, not looking up from whatever he was doing on his PADD. His cock was already heavy and Jim took it in his mouth, eager to coax it to full hardness.

Spock gave a soft, “Mmm,” as Jim’s mouth closed around him, and he started to pet Jim’s head again.

It took almost no time to get Spock fully erect, his big alien cock swelling in Jim’s mouth until it was stuffed all the way down his throat. Jim bobbed up and down, letting his tongue slide messily along Spock’s shaft. He was desperate to get Spock wet, and Jim moaned when the musky Vulcan slick started leaking onto his face. Spock chuckled darkly.

“Very good, Mr. Kirk.”

Jim couldn’t help a glance up at Spock, who felt Jim’s needy attention in his mind and looked down at him. Affection and love spilled over the bond at the same time as more slick spilled from the sheath collapsed at the base of Spock’s cock. Jim licked it up gratefully, trying to catch it on his tongue before it dripped down onto his captain’s pants.

A corner of Spock’s mouth quirked up and he rubbed a thumb against Jim’s cheekbone for a moment before turning back to his PADD and his absentminded petting.

Jim pushed Spock as far back into his throat as he could, choking and gagging but refusing to stop until his lips touched Spock’s zipper. He allowed himself a moment to adjust before lifting up and doing it again. He repeated it twice more before Spock growled and dropped his PADD, grabbing either side of Jim’s head and fucking up into him. Jim choked helplessly, lifting his watering eyes to Spock’s again.

He forced himself not to go so limp that Spock would be holding Jim’s entire weight by his head, but the power and control in Spock’s eyes mixed with the devotion and pleasure in the bond was a delicious drug that left Jim feeling safe and relaxed.

Spock gave him a little smack and Jim tried to come back to himself, but he was drifting. Spock yanked him off his cock by the hair with a small grunt of frustration.

“S-sorry,” Jim stuttered, but Spock ignored him, commanding, “Stand up. Remove your pants.” And when Jim did, “Bend over.”

Jim turned around and obeyed, and Spock removed the plug Jim always wore, steel like his collar and comfortingly heavy, its flat base glittering with a magenta gem. Jim had stared longingly at it in a sex shop on Risa, and Spock, ever indulgent, had bought three of them, all different colors. Jim wore one constantly with his hole lubed up, so that Spock could have him whenever he wanted. Now Spock dropped the plug on top of Jim’s pants and grabbed his hips, pulling him backward.

Jim felt the wet head of Spock’s cock at his hole for just a moment before Spock pulled him down, sliding all the way in until Jim was sitting in his lap. Jim gasped a pathetic little “Ah!”

Spock was rough as he arranged him, but really he was getting Jim into a position where he could just go boneless in Spock’s arms. He pulled Jim flush against him and Jim automatically let his head fall back on Spock’s shoulder. He spread Jim’s legs and got a firm grip on his waist before starting to pound up into him, doing all the work and letting Jim drift again.

As Jim’s little kitten whimpers echoed across the bridge, he looked vaguely around from his new vantage point to find Sulu watching them hungrily and Chekov ignoring them, engrossed in his work. A few ensigns looked uncomfortable and were pretending nothing was happening. Uhura was obviously too busy to really watch, but kept looking back at them to enjoy the view for a few moments before returning to her console.

Jim closed his eyes so it was just the two of them, alone in each other’s heads. “There,” Spock said against his ear. “My little _komihnsu_ is too tired to do the work, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Jim whined, “I’m sorry, I’m—”

Spock gave his collar a sharp tug and in Jim’s head said, _No apologies_ , so Jim just leaned more heavily against Spock’s chest. He was so soothingly full, his own cock bouncing with Spock’s thrusts. Spock dug the fingers of one hand into Jim’s hip and with the other started rubbing his cock with a punishing grip.

Jim floated, his awareness reduced to the fat drag of Spock pushing in and out of him, the synchronous pumping of his cock in Spock’s fist. He got heavier and heavier, pressing so hard against his captain that it seemed like his body was trying to slip inside Spock’s altogether.

He was so out of it he didn’t even realize he was approaching orgasm until it ripped through him, blurring his nerves and shaking his muscles. He screamed helplessly, writhing in Spock’s arms, but Spock grabbed him around the stomach to hold him in place, fucking him through it.

“There, _slor-i’khaz’el_ , there. Good boy. Good. So good for me, Commander, very—”

Spock locked up, fingers bruising Jim’s soft belly, his grunts the only sound he made and pretty much the only sound on the bridge at all. The crew held their breath and waited for Spock’s quiet sigh, relaxing only when they heard that signal of their captain’s satisfaction.

Jim twitched, whimpering, in Spock’s lap, and Spock rubbed a firm, reassuring hand against his chest. “Well done, _komihnsu t’nash veh_ ,” he murmured. Jim tried to get up to clean Spock and then get himself dressed, but Spock held him down.

“Stay. I am quite comfortable and you deserve a period of rest.”

Jim leaned gratefully against him, aware of nothing but the thrum of the bond and the feeling of Spock’s skin. He was almost asleep when Spock started addressing the crew, and he made a gallant effort at focusing on his captain’s speech.

“As you are all aware, our annual Advent celebration will be begin in two days. Your performance this year has been acceptable and you are deserving of your gift. There will, however, be one change from the celebration of previous years: I will be overseeing all sexual experiences with Commander Kirk.”

If the crew were disappointed by this announcement, they were smart enough not to show it, responding only with a murmured chorus of, “Yes, Captain.”

Jim was suddenly very much awake. Although he was sure Spock could feel his swell of overwhelming thankfulness in the bond, he scrabbled around for his husband’s hand anyway, squeezing it as tight as his fuck-weak muscles would allow. Spock rubbed a thumb against his skin and the warmth of his devotion seeped into Jim’s mind, into every part of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Vulcan Glossary, i.e., Just a List of Ridiculous Endearments**  
>  _Ashaya_ : Love  
>  _Ashaya t’nash-veh_ : My love  
>  _Ashayam_ : Beloved  
>  _Komihnsu_ : Human  
>  _Komihnsu t’nash veh_ : My human  
>  _Pi'komihnsu t’nash-veh_ : My little human  
>  _Vaksurik_ : Beautiful  
>  _Pi’veh_ : Little one  
>  _Slor-veh_ : Sweet one  
>  _Slor-i’khaz’el_ : Sweet boy  
>  _Rom-i’khaz’el t’nash-veh_ : My good boy


	2. Bones

Jim fiddled with his collar, sitting cross-legged on a biobed while Bones finished up with a patient. It was a young ensign who had gotten punched in the face, apparently for stealing someone’s replicator credits.

As Bones healed the last of the damage with a dermal regenerator, Jim said, “Ensign, you’re gonna need to learn to avoid a direct hit. That could easily have been a knife and you’d either be dead or missing an eye right now. See that you increase your sparring practice.”

“Yes, Commander.” The kid nodded nervously, not making eye contact, and scurried out of sickbay. He was likely scared of Jim, who held a lot of power for an officer who was essentially a slave—everyone knew that Spock doted on him, even if they didn’t know the true extent of it. Either that or he had seen Jim’s asshole a few too many times as it slid up and down the captain’s cock, and he was too embarrassed to look Jim in the eye. That happened a lot too.

“So,” Bones said, putting his tools in the recycler and washing his hands, “What brings you down here today, Jim? Lemme guess—Advent?”

Jim smiled. “Yep.”

“You want tranquilizers like last year?”

“No—well, actually yeah, maybe I should have some on hand. But I came to ask if you’d let Spock watch while you take your turn with me. He’s going to try staying with me this year and I figure we’d better start with the only person who actually knows why he usually doesn’t."

Bones gave him a skeptical glare. “You know I don’t care if I get a turn with you, Jim.”

“Yeah, but it’s always kind of nice with you.”

“‘Kind of nice.’ How flattering.”

Jim rolled his eyes and collapsed melodramatically onto the biobed. “Look, that’s not what I meant and you know it. The only person I feel like I should be having sex with is Spock, but if I have to fuck everyone in the senior crew and feel guilty about it, I’m sure as hell not going to skip the person I feel _the least_ guilty about. I mean, best friends have casual fucks sometimes, even when it’s not Starfleet-mandated. And besides, this year I need you to be the test case.”

Bones loomed over Jim and scowled, giving his collar a fond tug. “In case you haven’t noticed, Jim, your Vulcan is damn scary. If you’re worried he’s gonna tear people apart for sticking it in you, I don’t really _want_ to be the test case.”

Jim smiled with his pretty pink lips and fixed Bones with his pretty blue eyes. He could see the very moment Bones gave in. “He’s not going to tear you apart. He’s just gonna see if it makes him unbearably jealous. Worst-case scenario he gets up and leaves until we’re done, and then fucks me rough for the rest of the night.”

“Hm,” Bones prevaricated, but Jim knew he had already won. “Fine, whatever. Be at my quarters tomorrow night at 2100. I’ll have some booze ready.”

Jim bounced up and kissed Bones on the cheek. “Thank you, Bonesy.” He hopped off the biobed and started to make his way out of sickbay, but Bones stopped him with a quiet, “Jim.”

Jim turned around to find Bones staring at him seriously. “I’m glad that husband of yours is willing to try and stay. I know he can treat you however he wants, but I like it better when he’s treating you good.”

Jim gave him a crooked little smile. “Thanks, Bones. He always treats me good, but thanks for looking out for me.”

He hurried out of sickbay, anxious to get back to Spock.

\---

True to his word, Bones had both scotch and chocolate laid out next to the couch when the command team arrived in his quarters the next night. In keeping with the soft Southern heart he hid behind bitterness and occasional casual violence, Bones had arranged the booze around a miniature plastic Christmas tree sitting in the middle of the drinks tray.

“How thoughtful, Doctor,” Spock said with amusement, picking up a piece of the expensive Terran chocolate.

“Yeah well, it’s only ‘cause I’d prefer you not rip my throat out tonight, Captain.”

“I assure you, I will not. Unlike the rest of the crew, you are well aware of how thoroughly Jim belongs to me. I understand, logically, that your sexual use of him is but a means to achieve physical pleasure.”

“It’s not so much your logical understanding I’m worried about. More those famous Vulcan instincts of yours.”

Spock chuckled darkly and settled on the couch. “Please do not worry, Doctor. In fact, I am looking forward to watching you undo him.”

As Spock took his first bite of chocolate, Bones glanced at Jim and got a shy little smile in return. Bones rolled his eyes. “You’re too goddamn pretty, Jim.”

“I agree,” Spock said. “He could be a powerful weapon if he were not so devoted to me.” He patted his lap. “Come here, _pi’veh_.”

Jim crossed to him as ordered, snuggling into his lap as Spock reached over to the drinks tray and poured a large shot. Jim opened his mouth obediently and let Spock pour the liquor down his throat. He didn’t cough, and Spock fed him another shot before manhandling him into a standing position and beginning to undress him.

“Getting him nice and drunk?” Bones asked, obviously trying to sound judgemental, but he ruined the effect by rubbing his erection through his trousers.

“Indeed. He is more pliable that way.”

“And less stressed,” Bones said, clearly seeing Spock’s controlling behavior for the attempt to take care of Jim that it actually was. Spock’s eyebrow quirked but he didn’t respond.

By the time Spock had gotten him naked, Jim was looking anxiously down at him, big blue eyes almost helpless. “Are you gonna be mad at me?” he asked quietly, and Spock shook his head. “No, _ashaya_. But you will not be able to ask me that when you are with the others, will you?”

“No,” Jim whispered.

“Behave as you would if your friend did not know of our bond, please.”

Jim nodded and Spock turned him around by his hips, pushing him forward. Bones caught him, folding up the skinny little body in his arms.

“Don’t you worry, Jimmy,” he said, “I’m gonna take care of you.”

Jim buried his face in Bones’s shoulder, his “Okay,” barely audible.

Bones looked at Spock over Jim’s head, running his hands soothingly up and down the naked human pressed against him.

“How do you wanna play this? You want me to do what I always do, or you wanna give the orders?”

Spock tilted his head, considering. Finally he waved his hand. “Go about it as you typically would. I will gauge my reaction.”

Bones hummed somewhat doubtfully but got to it nonetheless. He slipped his hands down and pulled Jim’s ass open, feeling for the jeweled plug. “Good,” he murmured. “You’re gonna be nice and open for me.”

Jim’s head was already spinning from the alcohol, his cock was already rock-hard, and the guilt was already burning in the pit of his stomach. Spock must have felt it because he said, “I am right here, Jim. You are not doing anything wrong. Attempt to enjoy yourself.”

Bones leaned back and ran a hand through Jim’s hair. “Come on, sugar. Let’s go lie down and I’ll get you feelin’ good.”

Jim walked to the bed, hearing Spock shift on the couch to a position that gave him a good vantage point. He met his husband’s eyes and Spock gave him a small nod of reassurance.

Sensing Jim’s hesitation, Bones scooped him up and put him gently on the bed. Jim was slight and weighed very little—Bones and Spock did their best to keep him well-fed, but his eating habits hadn’t been right since Tarsus. After Captain Garrovick had used that to his advantage, Jim’s disordered eating became a problem that would probably never be fixed. Bones kept him from tipping into malnourishment, and that was the best he could do.

The fact that Jim could be picked up, tossed around, and manhandled was yet another feature that made him a coveted first officer, and Spock the subject of much jealousy and failed attempts at mutiny. Spock was powerful enough to subdue almost any threat to his captaincy, and if someone were trying to take it from him merely to get access to his first officer, well. Those people weren’t heard from again.

Bones arranged Jim’s liquor-heavy limbs on the bed, spreading his legs and bending them at the knee. Jim hadn’t taken his eyes off Bones’s face and it was clearly making Bones a little uncomfortable, so Jim looked away. As if in concession, Bones leaned down and kissed his cheek.

“You want another shot, Jimmy? Want to get you nice and relaxed.”

“Yes, please.”

Bones turned to go back to the drinks tray, but Spock had already stood and was preparing another shot for Jim. He brought it over and Jim opened his mouth like a baby bird, letting Spock pour the whiskey into him. Spock spilled some down his neck and made an inviting gesture to Bones, who was more than happy to lean over Jim’s body and lick him clean.

Jim gave an encouraging little whimper. Spock made his way back to the couch and Bones set to work, trailing his tongue from Jim’s neck to his chest. When he got to Jim’s nipple he took it in his teeth, tugging and sucking. Jim gasped and arched up.

Bones pulled off of Jim’s nipple with a final scrape of teeth, leaving it puffy and pink. Before moving onto the other one, he admired his handiwork, murmuring, “So pretty, Jimmy.”

When both of Jim’s nipples were raw and oversensitive, Bones slid down his body to take his cock into the heat of his mouth. Jim whined, glancing over at Spock again, who was watching them hungrily. Jim hadn’t felt any jealousy stir the bond yet, which was promising.

Spock cocked his head, “Do you enjoy that, Jim? Being sucked?”

Jim nodded, thrusting up weakly into Bones’s mouth. Bones rubbed his thumbs over Jim’s hips, encouraging him to relax. Jim took a deep breath and tried to lean into the pleasure, let the liquor slow his thoughts and settle his worries.

Bones reached down and pulled his plug out, immediately replacing it with two warm fingers. He let Jim’s cock fall back onto his stomach with a wet smack as he slid his fingers in and out of Jim’s hole, spreading them apart and dragging along Jim’s rigid muscles. Jim moaned and curled up into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. Bones added another finger.

“So loose already. Fuck, sweetheart, just want to get inside you.”

“You can,” Jim whispered, “I’m ready.”

Bones hesitated—he hadn’t done much prep but then, Jim was _always_ prepped. He withdrew his fingers, getting up to take his clothes off and grab some lube. Once he was back in bed and sitting on his haunches he said, “C’mere and suck on this a minute, baby.”

Jim shimmied up and took as much of Bones’s cock in his mouth as he could, sliding it into his throat, gagging. Bones tugged him back gently by his hair.

“No need to choke on it. Just get it nice and wet.”

So Jim resorted to bobbing up and down, sucking on the head with each upward stroke of his mouth. “That’s it,” Bones praised. “That’s real nice, darlin’. Alright, why don’t you get on your hands and knees for me, ok?”

Jim did as he was told, head at the end of the bed so he could keep eye contact with Spock. Spock was eating another piece of chocolate, two spots of green high on his cheeks. Jim smiled nervously.

“You want him to come over, Jim? Hold you while I fuck you?”

Jim looked at Spock uncertainly, but Spock just smiled slightly, loose from the sugar in his blood.

“Would you like that, _pi'komihnsu t’nash-veh_?”

Jim nodded. “Is that ok?”

Spock stood and crossed Bones’s quarters, kneeling on the floor at the end of his bed.

“Of course.”

As Bones poured extra lube over Jim’s hole, Jim buried his face in Spock’s neck, Spock stroking his shoulders, his upper arms. He felt Bones line himself up and push slowly inside, more slowly than Jim needed, but it was nice. When he had bottomed out, he stilled and rubbed Jim’s stomach with one hand.

“How’s that, Jim?”

“Good,” Jim murmured into Spock’s neck.

Surely Bones could feel that Jim’s body was giving almost no resistance, so he quickly worked up to a steady rhythm. Jim whimpered against Spock’s skin and Spock slid his hands down Jim’s back, approval and arousal in the bond.

Bones’s hand moved from Jim’s soft stomach to his cock, which was bobbing and straining for attention. He started to jerk it in time with his thrusts, and Jim arched up, Spock finding his mouth and kissing him, rough and deep.

Jim keened—the sensation of being fucked from behind while Spock held him, kissed him, was electric. Bones put a firm hand between his shoulder blades and pounded him, letting go of his cock to grab his hip and hold him still, get as far in as he could.

“Touch yourself for me, Jimmy.”

Jim grabbed his cock and rubbed weakly. He could come from having his ass fucked, but the contact on his dick, the way it drooled into his hand, felt dirty and good. Spock stroked his hair, broke their kiss enough to murmur, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Jim pulled away a little, skittish. “Yeah. Are you mad?”

Spock’s tiny smile was a dark curl. “No, Jim. I am not experiencing jealousy. I am in fact enjoying watching you—how sexually responsive you are even when nervous and guilty. Such a pretty, depraved little human.”

“But I’m being good, right?”

“Very good. _Rom-i’khaz’el t’nash-veh_.”

“Jesus,” Bones muttered, and grabbed Jim’s other hip, straightening up so he could drill him with abandon, making Jim cry out and collapse onto his chest. Spock stroked his hair, nails digging into his scalp. The heat and desire pouring over the bond was suffocating, and Jim knew he would be getting a much rougher fuck later, once Spock got him to himself again.

In Jim’s mind, Spock said, “You are most certainly correct about that, husband.”

The pleasure pinballing through his body and the anticipation of more, of Spock’s comforting dominance, brought Jim right to the edge of orgasm. He started to wail, reaching out helplessly for Spock. Spock took both hands in one of his own, the other still in Jim’s hair.

“Gonna come for me, sweetheart?” Bones said, his labored breathing suggesting he wasn’t far from coming himself.

“Yeah,” Jim whined. “Can I? Can I please?”

“That’s up to your bondmate,” Bones said, an evil hint of teasing in his voice, and Jim sobbed against the mattress. “Whaddya say, Spock?”

“Hmm,” Spock considered, playing along, but at another wave of Jim’s sobbing, he said, “Of course you can come, Jim. Come whenever you need to.”

Jim did, pulsing over his hand and shouting. Bones picked up his pace even more, praising, “There you go, darlin’. That’s right. So good, comin’ so pretty, Jimmy, ah!”

He locked in, pumping Jim full while Jim twitched with aftershocks, mewling. Spock rubbed a comforting hand along Jim’s back as Bones panted above him, eventually withdrawing and collapsing onto his back.

“C’mon up here, Jim.”

Jim went obediently, curling up in his best friend’s arm. A weak thrum of jealousy went through the bond, but it was already gone by the time Jim looked up at Spock. Spock knew perfectly well how different Jim’s love for Bones was than the all-consuming, incapacitating love he felt for Spock. Jim smiled at him weakly and Spock ran a finger along the top of his foot.

“Thanks, Bonesy,” Jim whispered, and Bones just grunted, but he tightened his arm around Jim nonetheless.

“Alright,” he said, kissing Jim on the forehead, fast enough that he could deny it if necessary. “Go on, get outta here.”

Jim crawled out of the bed and went back to the sofa to retrieve his clothes, dressing clumsily.

“Thanks for not killing me, Spock,” Bones said, and Spock nodded.

“It was not difficult, Doctor. Thank you for your gentleness with my bondmate.”

“Jesus, I’m never giving you this much chocolate again. You sound downright sentimental.”

Jim giggled tiredly and both men looked over at him, fond and sweet. Spock crossed to his side and took his elbow. “Come along, _ashaya_. You have much work ahead of you tonight.”

Jim’s cock gave a valiant stir and he let Spock lead him out of Bones’s quarters, turning to wave at Bones from the door. Bones, naked and spent, vaguely lifted his arm in response and muttered, “Happy Advent, Jimmy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Vulcan Glossary, i.e., Just a List of Ridiculous Endearments**  
>  _Ashaya_ : Love  
>  _Ashaya t’nash-veh_ : My love  
>  _Ashayam_ : Beloved  
>  _Komihnsu_ : Human  
>  _Komihnsu t’nash veh_ : My human  
>  _Pi'komihnsu t’nash-veh_ : My little human  
>  _Vaksurik_ : Beautiful  
>  _Pi’veh_ : Little one  
>  _Slor-veh_ : Sweet one  
>  _Slor-i’khaz’el_ : Sweet boy  
>  _Rom-i’khaz’el t’nash-veh_ : My good boy


	3. Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov

Jim and Spock decided Scotty should be the first real test of the captain’s control. He had never been especially invested in the Advent, and his encounters with Jim had always been quite short—Scotty had no real interest in anything but the ship and her engines. His singular focus made him, frankly, a rather terrifying person. Jim was absolutely sure that if came down to a sentient life or an essential ship’s part, Scotty would choose the part every time.

Spock and Jim descended to Engineering together, Jim fiddling nervously with his collar. He did like Scotty—the frenetic engineer was funny in a crazy kind of way. But he was rough with Jim during Advent, concerned only with rubbing one out in Jim’s ass and then getting back to his engines. It made Jim shivery with both apprehension and desire.

Picking up on some of Jim’s conflicted emotions, Spock chuckled and took Jim’s hand, tucking it into the crook of his elbow.

“You are such a rotten little human, Jim. Aroused by your own fear.”

Jim looked up at him helplessly. The fear was winning its battle against the arousal—this would be the first time Spock saw him fucked by anyone other than Bones. What if Spock was so jealous he got angry after all, angry enough to leave Jim, break their bond, give Jim to another captain? The sudden swing from tentative hunger to outright terror made him feel a little sick, his breath too shallow in his chest.

Spock stopped walking and put his free hand over Jim’s. “I sense what you are afraid of,” he said quietly. “Those are not possibilities, even if I do become angry.”

Jim could feel tears threatening. “I hate when you’re mad at me.”

“I know, and I will do everything in my power to avoid it. You are not doing anything wrong and I am well aware of that.”

Jim nodded shakily. Spock extracted his arm from Jim’s grasp and put it around him, leading him gently on toward Engineering. He poured reassurance through the bond, but Jim could feel his hesitation—Spock was uncertain about this, too. Jim leaned into Spock’s hold, trying to get control of his shivering.

They found Scotty deep in the recesses of his department, halfway under a broken control panel.

“Lieutenant Commander Scott,” Spock said with mild annoyance—they had told Scotty when they were coming and he should have been expecting them.

Scotty scrambled out from under the console, blinking up at them through dirty goggles. He was covered in grease, hair caked with it, his uniform rumpled and filthy.

“Captain! Is it 1300 already?”

“It is, Mr. Scott. Would you like to forfeit your time with Commander Kirk?”

“No, no,” Scotty said, standing up and brushing uselessly at his uniform, “Sorry about tha’. Uh…” He looked around and then pointed at a messy work table. “Go on, laddie, bend over the desk there. Just push the stuff outta the way.”

Jim obeyed, slipping his pants off before gingerly moving the detritus enough to lay his chest on the surface of the desk, ass in the air.

“Ah,” Scotty sighed, and Jim glanced over his shoulder to see him pulling his cock out, rubbing it to hardness. “There’s a pretty sight. Been too long since I stuffed this old knob into somethin’.”

Jim saw Spock raise a vaguely horrified eyebrow at Scotty’s slang and he smiled, relaxing a little.

He felt Scotty’s short fingers grasp his plug and pull, the soft pop of it a conditioned signal to Jim’s brain that he was about to get fucked. Blood filled his cock in response, his nipples tingling. Scotty rubbed his open asshole for a moment, presumably enjoying the wanton appearance of it, but that was as much time away from his engines as he was willing to waste.

Jim grunted as Scotty’s entire length pushed into him, fingers slick with mechanical lubricant taking clumsy hold of his hips.

“Ah, yeah, that’s nice,” Scotty mumbled. Jim bore down around the slight discomfort—he was lubed-up and prepped as always, but Scotty was rough and careless. He felt a flash of Spock’s protectiveness and sent back a wordless comfort—it was always like this, nothing he couldn’t handle. As Scotty found a rhythm and Jim’s muscles adjusted, he gave a little whine of pleasure and wiggled himself down on Scotty’s cock.

Scotty chuckled. “Tha’s the way, laddie.”

Jim heard Spock shift and an accompanying wave of jealousy flooded his mind. He whipped his head around to find Spock’s eyes, panic suffusing him immediately, but Spock gave a minute shake of his head. There was no anger in the bond, only possessiveness and jealousy, and Jim tried to breathe around the knot in his chest.

Scotty, of course, didn’t even notice, pounding Jim ceaselessly as he moved his hands to grip Jim’s ass, spreading him wider and digging into his flesh. He came with a guttural shout, pressing Jim into the table with the force of his orgasm.

“Phew!” he said, pulling out and wiping himself off on Jim’s tunic. “All set there, Commander. Thanks for tha’.”

“No problem,” Jim said softly, leaning over to pick up his pants. Scotty retrieved the jeweled plug from where he had tossed it onto the desk and held it out to Jim. Like Jim himself, it was now covered in grease.

“Want me to put this back in for ye?”

But Spock reached out and snatched it away. “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander, but I will take this and sterilize it.”

Scotty shrugged as Jim tugged his pants back on over his still-hard cock. “Alright. Well, thanks, Captain. Happy Advent.”

“You as well, Mr. Scott. Come along, Jim.”

Jim said, “Bye, Scotty,” as he scurried past, and Scotty waved distractedly as he headed back to the console he was repairing.

“Bye, laddie.”

As soon as they were in the corridor, Spock looked Jim up and down. “I do not like that he did not attend to your pleasure. As soon as you have showered, I will see to it.”

“It’s ok,” Jim said as they boarded the turbolift. “I’m there to please them, not the other way around.”

Spock hummed in acquiescence but he was clearly irritated. Jim smiled a little—Spock’s fussing over him was a reassuring counterpoint to the jealousy he had felt earlier.

“So you’re not mad?”

“No, _ashaya_. Well, not with you. With Mr. Scott for ignoring your erection, perhaps.”

Jim bumped Spock’s shoulder with his own. “I’m glad you love me enough to ignore the logic of what Advent is about.”

Spock cringed away from him. “While I do in fact love you more than I can adequately express, please do not touch me until you have disposed of that uniform and thoroughly cleaned yourself.”

Jim laughed and dutifully resisted the urge to bury himself in Spock’s arms and never leave.

\---

It didn’t go as well with Sulu and Chekov.

Chekov was young and hesitant, and Sulu had taken him under his wing early in the _Enterprise_ ’s mission. He protected Chekov and in return got Chekov’s genius, a vital asset for someone who schemed as ambitiously as Sulu did. Jim assumed there was also a lot of sex involved.

They always doubled-teamed Jim during Advent, Chekov still too uncertain, too intimidated by Jim, to make use of him alone. With Spock in the room he was downright terrified, hanging behind Sulu and shivering lightly.

The atmosphere in Sulu’s quarters was charged and tense. Sulu was clearly quite eager to get started, standing naked and unashamed with his cock already at full attention. Sulu was always the roughest with Jim, and so Spock had become possessive and suspicious before Jim had even finished taking off his clothes. Sulu kept throwing smug looks at Spock—which Jim thought was pretty damn brave and also incredibly stupid—obviously delighted that he got to fuck the Captain’s pet in front of him.

Spock was sitting stiff-backed on the couch, Jim hovering naked at his knee, trembling from nerves and the chilly air in Sulu’s quarters.

“Well?” Sulu purred, “Get over here, Commander.”

Jim crossed to him meekly, and Sulu pushed him down onto his knees, slapping his face with his cock a few times before shoving into Jim’s mouth. Jim relaxed his throat but Sulu clearly wanted to hear him gag, because he fucked his face as harshly as possible. Jim choked around him and Sulu laughed.

“Pavel, get your dick out.”

Behind him, Chekov scurried to open his pants, glancing at Spock once before taking them off altogether.

“C’mere,” Sulu said, cock falling out of Jim’s mouth as he grabbed Chekov’s arm and pulled him forward. He arranged Chekov in front of him, reaching around to grip his erection. The kid was young—even scared and uncertain he was hard as a rock.

“Suck on this, Commander,” Sulu ordered, jiggling Chekov’s skinny little dick in Jim’s face. Jim licked at the head, tongue dipping just slightly into the damp slit, before sliding the whole thing back into his throat. Chekov gave a strangled little whimper.

Sulu squeezed Chekov’s balls—painfully, if the sound Chekov made was any indication—and then came over to grab the back of Jim’s head, pushing him hard down the length of Chekov’s cock. Jim gagged and spluttered, hands flying out to grab Chekov’s legs and steady himself.

Sulu took a fistful of Jim’s hair and wrenched him off, slapping him across the face and shouting “Don’t touch him unless I give you permission!”

The sting of the slap was accompanied by a rush of Spock’s anger and concern, but Jim tried to send soothing emotions back. None of this was unexpected. Sulu was rough—Jim could take it.

In fact, the slap had gotten him half-hard. When Sulu gave him a second before shoving him back onto Chekov’s cock, Jim firmed up completely. A white-hot streak of jealousy wormed into the bond, shadowing Jim’s mounting pleasure like an overcast sky.

He could feel Spock trying to get control over himself, but Sulu wasn’t making it easy—once he got Jim sucking Chekov’s cock again, Chekov mewling and clutching Jim’s head, Sulu knelt to pull Jim’s plug out and toss it aside, then stuffed three fingers into his hole. It was too much too fast and Jim whined around the pain, but as Sulu thrust roughly up into him, Jim’s cock began to respond, drooling onto the floor.

The combination of Spock’s worry and possessiveness was taking on a sinister quality, and Jim started to panic.

 _You are enjoying this._ Spock said in the bond.

_Y-yeah. You said—_

_I recall what I said._

Sulu added another finger, the burn in Jim’s hole fanning the flame of Spock’s jealousy.

Jim’s gasp was muffled by Chekov’s cock, and Chekov stammered, “Y-you’re hurting him, Hikaru.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sulu said. Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw him look over at Spock. “That’s the point. I can hurt him as much as I want, can’t I, Captain?”

Spock was silent for one charged moment, collecting himself, and when he spoke his voice was hardly above a growl.

“Yes, Lieutenant. But you may not _damage_ him. Use more lubrication if you wish to fill him with your entire hand.”

It was supposed to be sarcastic, but Sulu exclaimed, “Ooh, my entire hand—good idea. How’s a little fisting sound, Mr. Kirk? Pavel, get the lube.”

As Chekov scurried over to Sulu’s bedside table, a fresh wave of Spock’s anger broke over Jim. “You are pushing your limits, Mr. Sulu,” he said through his teeth.

“I’ll lube him up, don’t worry. It’ll hurt, but you’ll still be able to fuck his sloppy, used-up hole after me.”

Spock stood up. Chekov froze halfway between the bed and Sulu, watching the captain with wide, terrified eyes. Sulu schooled his face into a respectful expression, but he stared Spock down.

This was the real test—Sulu was matching Spock’s possessiveness, an arrogant demonstration of his own ability to overpower a first officer. Everyone knew that Sulu wanted a route to the captain’s chair, especially one that let him avoid any time as first officer, and there was the hint of a threat behind the way Sulu treated Jim. He would never say it, because he needed to actually live long enough to make captain, but the gleam in his eye as he showily dominated Jim was an unspoken challenge. _Watch your back, Captain. It would be terrible if something happened to you and I had to take your ship, your chair, your precious first officer._

Jim tried to get his breathing under control and projected a plea through the bond. He barely even knew what he was asking for, but if Spock couldn’t make it through this, he’d never stay with Jim for Advent again.

Spock stalked over. He fell into silent parade rest near Sulu, but when no one had moved after a few moments, he raised an eyebrow.

“Continue,” he said expectantly, apparently intending to simply loom intimidatingly over the encounter. Jim sighed, wilting under the combination of relief and the barely controlled rage still pouring over the bond.

“Look alive!” Sulu barked, and Jim straightened his spine, lowering his head respectfully.

“Where do you want me?”

“Right there on the floor where you belong,” Sulu grinned. “Get on your hands and knees. Come on, Pavel, don’t be shy. Wanna put your little hand in first?”

“O-okay.” Chekov was still glancing nervously at Spock every few seconds, but he was clearly excited by the prospect of fisting Jim. He and Sulu knelt together and he handed over the lube, letting Sulu pour some over his fingers.

“Go on,” Sulu instructed him, “You can put all four fingers in at once, yours are small enough.”

Chekov rubbed at Jim’s hole before clumsily pushing his fingers in. Jim’s high grunt made him laugh softly.

“You like zat, Commender? Does it hurt you?”

“A little,” Jim gasped, and Chekov began jacking his fingers up and down.

“But you like being hurt, I think. You are so hard, I think you like zis wery much, don’t you?”

Jim closed his eyes. He did like it, and he knew Spock could feel it, knew his arousal was gasoline on the already violent fire of Spock’s jealousy.

“Answer him!” Sulu’s command was accompanied by another smack—apparently Sulu had come around in front of Jim while his eyes were closed.

Jim sobbed at the sting, but his asshole constricted in pleasure and Chekov gave a happy little cry.

“He does like it! He got all tight around me!”

As Chekov added his thumb to Jim’s ass, Sulu bent over until his face overtook Jim’s line of sight.

“Ensign Chekov asked you a question,” he snarled. “Do. You. Like it?”

“Yes!” Jim sobbed, and the well of anger in his brain began to boil. “It feels so good, it feels so good, I’m so full, it’s too tight—”

Sulu slapped him again and Jim moaned.

“Put the whole thing in, Pavel.”

Chekov pushed his hand forcefully inside, and Jim cried out, falling forward onto his hands and knees.

“Use more lube,” Sulu commanded, before pulling Jim up by his hair until he could get his cock in his mouth. The cool touch of Chekov pouring more slick over his hole eased the pain a little, and Jim couldn’t help it—he began humping back onto the invasion of Chekov’s hand.

“Yes,” Chekov hissed, “Fuck my hand, Commender.”

With Sulu fucking his throat from one end, Chekov fistfucking his ass from the other, Jim had little choice but to surrender to his body’s reaction. He groaned around Sulu’s cock as Chekov’s fingers nudged his prostate.

With a slightly ragged, “Fuck,” Sulu tore himself away, demanding, “My turn, Pavel.”

Chekov obediently switched places with him, Jim’s asshole winking loose and slick as he sucked Chekov back into his mouth. Sulu wasted no time in getting all five fingers into Jim, restraining himself enough to push slowly against the resistance of Jim’s muscles around his larger hand. Jim whimpered at the bright pain, risking a glance at Spock. He was staring unblinking at Jim’s face, expression hard and empty.

Jim squeezed his eyes shut in shame—Spock had said he wasn’t bad for enjoying sex with other people, but clearly seeing it in person had changed Spock’s mind.

Sulu’s hand slid all the way in, and Jim screamed as his asshole closed around Sulu’s wrist.

“Yeah, that’s right—take all of it, slut.” Sulu said with satisfied confidence, a tremble of uncontrolled arousal in his voice now.

Jim felt Spock’s mind recoil at the slur, a flare of hot, red rage.

 _But it’s true_ , Jim said in the bond. _I_ am _a slut._

Spock didn’t answer, although Jim couldn’t tell if it was because he agreed, or because Sulu had started fistfucking Jim in earnest now, rocking his hand up and down inside Jim’s body, and was watching Spock while he did so.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” Spock demanded icily.

“Nothing, sir,” Sulu grinned. “Just trying to remember if I’ve ever seen _you_ fistfuck him.”

Jim could feel Spock’s venomous possessiveness vibrating like a too-tight guitar string, about to break. But outwardly he only raised his eyebrow.

“Surely you cannot think that I demonstrate all sexual behaviors to you and the rest of the crew? That would imply that I think you deserve to see them.”

Pavel’s rhythm in Jim’s mouth faltered. Sulu didn’t respond but gave Jim a particularly hard thrust of his fist and Jim gasped. He started to cry in earnest then—from the pain, from the pleasure, from Spock’s anger. Sulu wrenched his hand out, earning a choked sob from Jim, and got up on his knees behind him, lining his cock up.

“Don’t come, Pavel. I want you to get to fuck him, too.”

Chekov whimpered and pulled away from Jim, obviously too close to orgasm for Jim to keep sucking him if he wasn’t allowed to come.

As Sulu slid in and started drilling him, he said, “Although I’m not sure this loose hole is gonna get anybody off, sloppy little slut.”

Spock took a step forward, and Sulu looked up at him in a silent challenge. He fucked Jim hard and fast, never looking away from Spock’s face. Spock didn’t do anything else, but they stared each other down, Chekov looking nervously between them and Jim crying quietly, until Sulu shouted and locked in, bellowing as he pumped Jim full.

He staggered up, gesturing for Chekov to take his place. Chekov scurried into position, and what his rhythm lacked in confidence he made up for with his enthusiasm, sharp thrusts punctuated with little gasps and high-pitched whines.

“Can you feel zis, Commender? Or are you too stretched out?”

Jim wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer, but he choked out, “I can feel it.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, but you like zat, don’t you? You like what we did to your ass, it must be so sore, fuck, all stretched out, you like zese cocks in your used-up—ah!”

He came with a few more punched-out little sounds, then withdrew with a sigh. He flopped happily onto the floor, breath heaving.

Spock was on Jim in an instant, grabbing him by the elbow and jerking him up. Jim scrambled to get his butt plug, weeping as he looked at Spock desperately. Spock ignored him.

“That is enough for this year, officers,” Spock all but growled. “Good night.”

“Thanks, Captain,” Sulu drawled, leering at them. Chekov gave a more sincere, “Yes, zhank you, Keptin!” from the floor.

Spock nodded sharply and pushed Jim ahead of him toward the door. Jim just managed to grab his clothes on the way out.

He stayed a few paces behind Spock, struggling into his pants and trying to get his sobbing under control given their location in the corridor, but it was hopeless. By the time they finally got inside their quarters, Spock barking at the doors to lock, Jim was shaking and gasping, unable to draw a full breath, arms wrapped around himself. He tripped over his own feet as he tried to head for the bathroom, and fell to the floor with a pathetic little shout. Once there he found he couldn’t really get up, because he couldn’t really breathe, and his head was starting to hurt so much that he couldn’t really see either—

“Jim!” Spock grabbed his arms, jerking him up off the floor, holding his weight in a painful grip. “I am not angry at you!”

He shook Jim with a short, wordless noise of frustration. “I am experiencing jealousy. It is not your fault.” But he was practically yelling, anger tearing through the bond, and Jim couldn’t reconcile what Spock was saying with how he was acting, with what he was projecting into Jim’s mind.

With another frustrated growl, Spock dragged Jim over to the bed and tossed him onto it. “Why did you put your pants on? Remove them.”

“I– I haven’t washed off—”

“I am well aware of that!” Spock shouted.

With a broken sob, Jim hastily got his pants back off, dropping them onto the floor.

“I’m so sorry, Spock, I’m so sorry,” he whispered as Spock wrenched off his own clothes and climbed into bed, grabbing Jim by the hips and pulling his body to him, hard cock flushed an angry shade of green. He didn’t answer Jim’s apology.

Spock reached down and pressed his fingers against Jim’s ass, growling slightly at the two loads of come leaking out of his slack hole. “I’m sorry,” Jim whispered again, but Spock shut him up with a bruising kiss, pushing his cock into Jim’s body.

There was no muscle resistance, of course, but Jim’s skin was sensitive and he whimpered at the burning drag. But Spock didn’t give him time to adjust, fucking him with the full force of his Vulcan strength. Jim just let himself cry, linking his arms around Spock’s neck and burying his face in his shoulder.

“Who do you belong to?” Spock snarled.

“You,” Jim sobbed. “Only you. Only ever you!”

Spock’s cock was pouring hot slick into Jim’s ass, and the pain faded to the background, reduced to a dull ache that served only to get Jim hard again. When Spock bit down on Jim’s neck, sucking a bruise where everyone would see, Jim arched up with a little cry.

“I-is it ok if I come?” he mumbled into Spock’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Spock said in his low, wild voice.

With his own cock trapped between their bodies and Spock’s getting ever wetter, Jim exploded soon after, dissolving instantly in wracking sobs. Spock put his hands under Jim’s ass and canted him up, riding him mercilessly until he came with a guttural cry.

For a moment neither of them moved, Jim still clinging to Spock’s neck, but then Spock made to pull away. Jim hung on.

“Please,” he sobbed, “please don’t leave me.”

Spock extracted himself anyway, but his voice was much gentler when he said, “Hush. I am only going to get a cloth.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a few wet washcloths and a jar of analgesic salve. Jim was shaking on the bed, just trying to get his breathing back to normal, watching Spock as he sat back down.

“Bend your knees,” Spock said quietly, helping Jim arrange his aching legs.

Spock cleaned Jim as best he could—he really needed a shower but Spock seemed determined to keep him in bed. When he began applying the analgesic to Jim’s wrung-out asshole, Jim squirmed with discomfort. Spock rubbed a soothing hand against his leg.

A few minutes later, not meeting his bondmate’s eyes, Spock said, “I am sorry, Jim.”

Jim was taken aback. “Why?” His voice was hoarse, throat raw.

Spock finally looked up at him. “How can you possibly ask me that? My show of possessiveness was unacceptable.”

“I don’t think it looked like anything but normal captain behavior to Sulu and Chekov.”

Spock shook his head. “That is not what I am referring to. I am referring to my brutality, to letting my jealousy become anger directed at you.”

“But… There’s nothing wrong with you getting angry. You deserve to be angry. Your bondmate is a disloyal slut.”

Spock looked hard at Jim and then sighed, contrition and pity drifting through the now-calm bond. He wiped his hand on a clean cloth and laid himself out next to Jim, opening his arms. Jim flew into them, even though he didn’t feel like he deserved it.

“You are not a disloyal slut.”

“I liked being fucked and hurt by lots of people besides my husband—if that’s not a slut, I don’t know what is.”

“You could be considered promiscuous, yes. But that should not be leveled as an insult in the manner employed by Lieutenant Sulu.” Anger pulsed briefly in the bond. “Nor does it make you any less devoted or faithful to me.”

Jim squeezed his eyes shut. “But that’s not how you feel when it’s happening. You feel betrayed.”

“I never feel betrayed,” Spock corrected. “I feel jealous. Possessive. I do not often enjoy sharing you, especially with someone as sadistic as Lieutenant Sulu. But your point is correct—what I _feel_ is at odds with what I _think_. That is unfair to you.”

“But I’m _yours_ , Spock. You’re allowed to be mad at me for fucking other people.”

“I do not abide by the rules of the service in our marriage, Jim. You belong to me because you are my bondmate, because you are a part of me.” He traced his finger along Jim’s collar. “This is my promise that I will protect you and care for you. It is not a symbol of ownership that allows me to mistreat you for fulfilling your professional duty to sexually serve the crew during Advent.”

“You’re not mistreating—” but Spock interrupted him.

“Inspiring fear in you as I did is mistreatment. I can be a brutal man, Jim, but I strive not to be so with you. It may take time, but I must work to reconcile my jealousy with my trust in you, which is absolute. But softening my behavior does not come naturally to me—can you be patient with me while I make those changes?”

Jim laughed, his silent, exhausted tears dampening Spock’s chest. “I can do anything for you.”

Spock started running his long fingers through Jim’s hair. “I know you can. You are not disloyal, my _ashayam_. You have never been anything but a steadfast companion, always at my side. We both must accept that I am naturally jealous and possessive, but in future Advents I will strive to release those emotions, control them before they become unjustified anger at you.”

Jim lifted his head. “You’re still going to stay with me during Advent?”

Spock reached up and stroked Jim’s cheek, wiping away his tears. “Yes. I will be there for your time with Lieutenant Uhura tomorrow, and I will be there for all Advents to come. I will not leave you alone in this anymore.”

Jim started at him, this beautiful, fearsome alien he was so devoted to. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice cracking.

“You are welcome. Lie down now, _slor-i’khaz’el_. Sleep and let me comfort you.”

Jim snuggled down deeper into Spock’s arms. He was still crying a little, didn’t seem to be able to stop. But Spock just stroked his hair, arms tight and secure around Jim’s tired body. Jim let himself drift until he had no more tears to cry, until he couldn’t stay awake anymore, then he let the darkness take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Vulcan Glossary, i.e., Just a List of Ridiculous Endearments**  
>  _Ashaya_ : Love  
>  _Ashaya t’nash-veh_ : My love  
>  _Ashayam_ : Beloved  
>  _Komihnsu_ : Human  
>  _Komihnsu t’nash veh_ : My human  
>  _Pi'komihnsu t’nash-veh_ : My little human  
>  _Vaksurik_ : Beautiful  
>  _Pi’veh_ : Little one  
>  _Slor-veh_ : Sweet one  
>  _Slor-i’khaz’el_ : Sweet boy  
>  _Rom-i’khaz’el t’nash-veh_ : My good boy


	4. Uhura

“Captain, would it be too much trouble for you to hold him down?”

Spock hesitated, exchanging a quick glance with Jim, who was stretched out naked on Uhura’s bed. “What do you intend to do to him? As you well know, he is very compliant.”

“Yeah, but I want to whip him and I want him to stay still for it.”

Jim shivered. He liked being whipped. He liked the sharp, bright pain, the warmth that spread out from each slap and strike.

Jim felt Spock’s wordless question in the bond, and he sent back enthusiastic encouragement. _This_ was the epitome of what he wanted—Spock holding him through all of his Advent encounters, close enough for Spock to be an active participant, for Jim to feel his reassurance, if there was any to be felt. Jim wanted to know that Spock was willingly sharing him, not that Jim was choosing to stray.

Spock nodded and approached the bed. A feral grin lit Uhura’s face and Jim looked up at her, half terrified, half aroused. She really was outrageously beautiful—long muscles on a slight frame, black hair in a tight ponytail, her exposed stomach flat and hard. In another life her face might have been sweet, but anyone who thought Uhura was just a pretty girl was swiftly corrected. Several times Jim had seen men grope her only for her to turn around, whip her long knife out of her boot, and chop the guy’s hand off. She would smile at him in satisfaction as he screamed, the gold of her belt flashing as she wiped the knife on it.

Spock got up on the bed behind Jim. “Would you like his front or his back to you?”

“His back, please,” Uhura said. She was already a little breathless.

Jim flipped onto his stomach and Spock tugged him up until Jim’s chest was in his lap, his head against Spock’s hip. Jim nosed at Spock’s shirt until it rucked up enough for him to press his face against bare skin. His arms were spread out on either side of Spock’s waist, and Spock clamped his hands down on them to keep Jim in place.

The flat head of a riding crop ran lightly up Jim’s spine, making him shiver. He whimpered, wiggling slightly in anticipation.

“Stay still!” Uhura barked. “Should I tie his legs down, Captain?”

“No,” Spock said calmly, “I am certain he will be obedient. But you will have to allow him to shift and writhe slightly, I’m afraid.”

Uhura huffed somewhere above Jim, but she knew better than to question Spock’s authority. Probably to ease her frustration, she slapped Jim’s ass with the crop unexpectedly, causing him to buck and cry out.

“Stay still,” Spock reminded him, perhaps more softly than he should have. “Show Lieutenant Uhura what a good boy you can be.”

“Sorry,” Jim whispered, and focused on staying as still as possible as the blows began to rain down.

The stings fell all over his back and buttocks, each a hot spike of pain. The more intense they got, the more Jim felt that crawling panic under his skin, the certainty that he could take no more. But Spock’s hands were sure and tight on his upper arms, and Uhura kept kicking his legs a little farther apart to make sure he couldn’t go anywhere, so eventually he just had to surrender.

And that was his favorite part, the first seconds after he gave up fighting—his body went limp, the crawling under his skin stopped, the pain took on a new, clearer quality. He usually cried at this point and tonight was no different, soft sobs against Spock’s hip. Spock, knowing Jim had been broken into full submission now, loosened his grip a little, rubbing a comforting thumb against Jim’s skin.

“Good,” he murmured. “Very good.”

Uhura began grunting with each strike, a high, desperate sound that Jim recognized from previous years as the waning of her control. Finally she said, “Flip him over,” and then, catching herself, “please.”

Spock complied, easing Jim off his lap and standing next to the bed before rolling Jim slowly onto his back. Jim nearly choked on the pain of turning onto his broken skin, and he distantly felt a ripple of Spock’s worry. Whenever he whipped Jim (or flogged him, or spanked him, or paddled him), Spock made sure to rub him with ointment right away or, if he needed to get off first, at least leave Jim on his stomach while he fucked him.

But Uhura couldn’t get what she wanted with Jim on his stomach. She eyed his cock hungrily where it stood aching, head bruise-purple. But for now she ignored it, tearing off her skimpy uniform top and her underwear. She didn’t bother with her skirt, too eager to crawl onto the bed and plant her thighs firmly on either side of Jim’s head, pushing his face into her pussy with no preamble.

Jim opened his mouth and moaned into her—he had to admit, he loved fucking women and he almost never had the opportunity. His flash of pleasure was mirrored by a flash of Spock’s jealousy, and Jim started to panic but, deep in the bond, Spock reassured him. The emotion would come, but right now Spock was in control. So Jim tried to relax, focusing on the wet slide of Uhura fucking his face, rubbing her hot, hard clit against his tongue.

She groaned, bucking her hips hard, Jim savoring the sweet-tang smell of her, the taste. He curled his tongue until he could get it up inside, just a little, and she gasped, pressing harder into him.

He couldn’t ask permission to touch her, so he slid his hands slowly up her thighs, giving her plenty of time to slap them away if she wanted to. But she didn’t, so he kept going until he got to her ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. Both Uhura and Spock chuckled at his weak display of force, and sweet contentment shivered all through Jim’s body at Spock finding amusement in watching Jim with another person. It was perfect. This was perfect.

Finally Uhura broke away with a strangled, “Fuck!” and shimmied down until she was hovering over Jim’s desperately hard cock.

“Want this, dirty boy? Want to put that in me?”

“Yeah,” Jim whispered. “Yeah, so bad. Please.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed in mock consideration, dipping down just enough that her wet lips brushed the head of his cock, “I’m not sure… such a dirty little slut… getting so many dicks for Advent, not sure you deserve this cunt…”

“Please!” Jim gasped, but suddenly felt a hot hand clamp his jaw. He glanced wildly around until he found Spock standing above him.

“You will take what she gives you and be grateful. Do not push for more.”

“Yes, sir,” Jim whispered. He could feel the hard impression of Spock’s jealousy and struggled to focus around his panic, sending desperate obedience back at Spock. After last night, he was terrified of what might happen.

As Uhura lowered herself onto his cock, hot and wet around him, Jim kept his eyes on Spock but couldn’t help a small whimper of pleasure. He liked it. He liked it with the other crewmembers. Spock had said that was ok.

Spock took a deep breath. In the bond he said, _You are doing nothing wrong. It is not wrong for you to enjoy this. But I am experiencing possessiveness and I wish to exert more control over this encounter. I wish to touch you throughout._

 _Whatever you want_ , Jim assured him. _I’ll do whatever you want._

Spock freed his jaw and stroked his hair. _I know you will._

Above him, Uhura was jacking herself up and down, gasping and moaning with abandon. She threw back her head, long ponytail swinging. “Oh, fuck, oh _fuck_.”

Spock glanced up at her. He wasn’t very attracted to women, but he liked Uhura. Jim didn’t think he really trusted her, but he was maybe close to trusting her. In Jim’s head, a whisper of arousal rippled Spock’s jealousy, not so much from looking at Uhura’s body, but from knowing someone he respected was using his bondmate. Spock gave her an almost-smile.

“Is he satisfactory?”

Her unfocused eyes found Spock and she grinned.

“Oh, yeah. He always is. You’ve made him into a wonderful bitch, Captain.”

Spock tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Lieutenant. That is very kind.”

Uhura whined a little through her teeth, leaning forward to rub her clit against Jim’s pubic bone. She was so tight, dripping down Jim’s cock and onto his thighs. She glanced at Spock again, clearly a little nervous but emboldened by her arousal. “Would you… would you mind doing stuff to him? So I could watch?”

Spock paused, and Uhura’s rhythm faltered. Even Jim was worried she had gone too far—Spock was not the one on display, to be used and commanded at will. He was the one in supreme control. But in the bond there was only increasing arousal, fading jealousy, a sense of hesitant satisfaction. “Of course. Is there anything in particular you desire to see?”

Uhura heaved a very relieved gasp, squeezing Jim’s cock so tight that he cried out. “Wh-whatever you want, sir,” Uhura stammered. “Forgive my forwardness, I just… he’s so pretty when he’s being hurt.”

Spock chuckled. “Indeed he is. No apologies are necessary—consider this an extra Advent treat for your excellent work this year. You may choose.”

Uhura humped Jim harder, clearly electrified by Spock’s generosity and the power she suddenly had over this encounter. Her small tits bounced frenetically and she blurted more slick onto Jim’s lower abdomen. “Oh _fuck_. Can you… can you choke him? On your… cock? Please?”

Spock’s eyes flashed dangerously. All of the jealousy was gone now, replaced by a dark hunger that made Jim start trembling.

“That would be my great pleasure, Lieutenant.”

He crawled back onto the bed and undid his pants, pulling himself out. He grabbed Jim by the hair and yanked his head up, steering him onto his already hard cock. Jim would have sighed contentedly—he always felt more secure with Spock in his mouth—but he didn’t have time. Spock started fucking his throat immediately, making Jim cough and gag around him, tears springing to his eyes.

Uhura moaned low and long. Jim looked up at Spock with his watery blue eyes, and although Spock didn’t smile, he sent wave after wave of approval through the bond. Jim’s heart swelled and he reached a tentative arm around Spock’s leg, clinging to him hard. Spock still had his hand firmly in Jim’s hair, directing his movements, but he rubbed Jim’s forehead with his thumb.

“Very good, Jim. Such a good boy.”

Jim looked at Uhura out of the corner of his eye—she had leaned back now and was rubbing her clit with two fingers, pinching one of her nipples. She was riding Jim’s cock with nothing but her powerful leg muscles to propel her, her eyes locked on Spock mercilessly fucking Jim’s mouth.

Jim choked hard around a particularly deep thrust and felt a shot of Spock’s precum hit the back of his throat. His face was mess, wet from Uhura and now from Spock’s natural lubrication, from being gagged so thoroughly. He spluttered and coughed and Uhura began to growl.

“He’ll just take anything, won’t he? He _likes_ this—I can feel his cock twitching. He’s just a little fuck slut, isn’t he?”

“Oh yes,” Spock purred, pumping himself down Jim’s throat, “He is a filthy little thing. He loves to be used, to be nothing but a wet hole.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Uhura gasped, falling forward again to support herself with her hands. “May I hurt him, sir?”

“Of course.”

Uhura dragged her nails down Jim’s chest, pinching his nipples until Jim screamed around Spock’s cock. He started to cry, overstimulated and overwhelmed, which only made him choke harder. Uhura dug her fingernails into the skin of his ribs, chanting, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, fuck yes, oh _fuck_ ,” until she tightened up around him, her shouts ringing against the bulkhead, come spraying all the way up to Jim’s chin.

Jim vaguely felt Spock’s surprise in the bond but was too far-gone to be amused that Spock didn’t know women could ejaculate. The surprise seemed to send him over the edge and he grunted once, sending pulse after pulse of come down Jim’s throat.

Uhura had stilled on top of him, breath heaving, but she quickly resumed her pace and screamed through a second and third orgasm, soaking Jim’s chest and stomach. Spock extracted himself and tucked his cock away, stroking Jim’s hair.

“Come for us, Jim,” he commanded gruffly as Uhura starting going for a fourth, and Jim turned to press his face against Spock’s leg, sobbing and whimpering but, as ever, obedient. He focused on the pleasure of Uhura slip-sliding on his cock, her high-pitched wailing, the burning of Spock’s possessive contentment in the bond, so vastly different from his furious jealousy of the previous night. With a pathetic cry he jerked up, exploding inside Uhura’s body, the force of his thrust sending her over the edge of her final climax.

Uhura slumped over him, exhausted. Jim was shivering and spent, desperately in need of Spock’s gentle aftercare, and he sent Spock the impression a wild plea. Spock nodded.

“I will take him now, Lieutenant.”

Uhura looked up, seemed to remember where she was, who she was with.

“Oh! Of course, sir.”

She rolled off of Jim and collapsed onto her back, breathing hard, hair spread messy and tangled behind her head. Her skirt was still on, bunched up around her waist, her legs shining with her own come. Jim distantly registered how lovely she was.

“Thank you so much, Captain,” she panted at Spock, and he gave her an almost warm look.

“You are welcome, Lieutenant. Happy Advent.” He gathered Jim up, one arm under his back, one under his legs. It was obvious enough that he couldn’t walk on his own. They left Uhura’s quarters and Spock strode quickly back to their own, Jim’s naked, used-up body on display for any passing crewmembers. Because of that, Jim managed to hold it together until their doors closed behind them, but then he started sobbing again, gasping for air, shaking hard.

Neither of them failed to notice the similarity between the previous night and this one, but tonight there was none of the charged tension.

“Hush,” Spock murmured, carrying him to the bathroom and laying him gently in their bathtub, a luxury afforded only to captains, “You did so well, _ashayam_. That was beautiful to witness.”

He ran warm water and bathed Jim carefully with a washcloth, shushing him whenever Jim hissed at the contact against damaged skin. When all the blood and come had been rinsed away, Spock plugged the bath and let it fill, leaving Jim to soak as he cleaned himself in the sonic shower unit.

By the time Spock had dried Jim off and put him on his stomach in their bed, Jim was nearly asleep. He moaned weakly as Spock rubbed an antibacterial ointment into the riding-crop cuts on Jim’s back before lying next to him and pulling him into his arms. He arranged him so that nothing was touching his back, his face tucked safely into the juncture of Spock's neck and shoulder.

“Sleep, husband,” he said softly, and Jim could only obey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Vulcan Glossary, i.e., Just a List of Ridiculous Endearments**  
>  _Ashaya_ : Love  
>  _Ashaya t’nash-veh_ : My love  
>  _Ashayam_ : Beloved  
>  _Komihnsu_ : Human  
>  _Komihnsu t’nash veh_ : My human  
>  _Pi'komihnsu t’nash-veh_ : My little human  
>  _Vaksurik_ : Beautiful  
>  _Pi’veh_ : Little one  
>  _Slor-veh_ : Sweet one  
>  _Slor-i’khaz’el_ : Sweet boy  
>  _Rom-i’khaz’el t’nash-veh_ : My good boy


	5. Iowa

The living room was warm and cozy, snow falling outside and a hot cup of coffee in Jim’s hands. He felt like he was in one of the old Earth novels he liked to read to escape the often hard reality of life in the Empire. A few years ago he would never have imagined that he could experience such an escape in real life.

It was Spock who had made that possible, had given his life comfort and purpose. Jim smiled at his husband as he bent over the fireplace, trying and utterly failing to rebuild the fire that had burned down to embers. They were in the Iowa farmhouse where Jim had grown up, a property he had inherited and which had then passed to the possession of each of Jim’s successive captains. But only Spock, of course, had repaired and refurbished it to Jim’s liking, an indulgent present for his first officer.

Jim extracted himself from the blankets Spock had covered him with and put his coffee down. “Here, Spock. Let me.”

Spock sat back on his haunches and sighed, admitting defeat. Jim couldn’t help but laugh softly at the sight of the _Enterprise_ ’s fearsome captain, wearing a heavy sweater with a mistletoe pattern, long hair tied up in a bun with smudges of ash on the shaved sides of his skull, conceding a battle with their fireplace.

“I am attempting to take care of you as you typically care for me. You should not have to build your own fires.”

Jim knelt beside him and kissed his cheek. “I don’t mind. It’s nice being pampered like this, but you always take really good care of me. Besides, you’re a privileged Vulcan from a prestigious family who zoomed to the top of command with your intelligence and ruthlessness. Why in the hell would you know how to make a fire?”

Spock sighed again and Jim grinned at him over his shoulder.

“It’s really no big deal, honey. I _like_ taking care of you. But you can go back to spoiling me as soon as I get this going.”

Spock stood and brushed the ash out of his hair as Jim stacked kindling and lit it before adding a few logs.

“There,” he said, standing up and clapping his hands together. “That’ll catch in a minute.”

Spock pounced on him, picking him up and carrying him back to the couch.

“Hey!” Jim laughed, arms going automatically around Spock’s neck, but he didn’t protest as Spock settled him back into the cushions, arranging the quilts and blankets around him and handing him his coffee. Jim smiled up at him.

“Thanks, Spock. Thank you for this whole shore leave.”

Spock leaned over and kissed him, slow and long and sweet. “You deserve it, _ashaya t’nash-veh_. The Advent is difficult for you, and my reaction was strenuous. But you performed beautifully, as you do every year.”

“This year was so much better. It means so much to me that you were willing to stay.”

Spock settled down beside him, getting under the blankets and putting his arms around Jim’s skinny body.

“Staying with you was actually quite helpful to me. Being forced to confront my jealousy has allowed me to examine it more effectively, and to witness as well as feel your devotion to me even as you derived pleasure from others was a tremendous reassurance. I am more sure of my own emotional controls, as I was almost entirely able to conceal any evidence of what I feel for you. I believe I will enjoy being present for future Advent celebrations. With the possible exception of Lieutenant Sulu’s turn with you. I may have to have him assassinated.”

Jim laughed. Spock was just joking (he was pretty sure), but it was nice to hear his possessiveness directed entirely at Sulu. The bond was free of any anger or resentment for Jim, suffused only with warmth.

Jim leaned into him. “I love you, Captain.”

Spock looked down at him with amusement. “And I you, Mr. Kirk.”

They lapsed into silence, listening to the soft murmuring of snow against the window, the crackling and popping of the fire. At that moment they could have been any normal couple, cuddling in their living room on a cold winter’s day. Maybe in some other reality, in one of the infinite other universes brushing against their own, Jim and Spock were regular husbands, no secrets, no savagery. Maybe Jim had become the Captain James T. Kirk he had imagined as a child, Spock the quiet scientist he had expected to be. Maybe Jim didn’t belong to Spock in an official capacity, but he was sure that no matter what, they belonged to each other.

Maybe it was different somewhere else, but Jim was happy with how it was right here in the warm safety of his husband’s arms, in the secret cradle of their bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Vulcan Glossary, i.e., Just a List of Ridiculous Endearments**  
>  _Ashaya_ : Love  
>  _Ashaya t’nash-veh_ : My love  
>  _Ashayam_ : Beloved  
>  _Komihnsu_ : Human  
>  _Komihnsu t’nash veh_ : My human  
>  _Pi'komihnsu t’nash-veh_ : My little human  
>  _Vaksurik_ : Beautiful  
>  _Pi’veh_ : Little one  
>  _Slor-veh_ : Sweet one  
>  _Slor-i’khaz’el_ : Sweet boy  
>  _Rom-i’khaz’el t’nash-veh_ : My good boy


End file.
